A Brighter Hunger
by OneTrueJohnSmith
Summary: Coming back to Remnant feels less like a homecoming and more of a business trip. Enrolling in Beacon is more of a box-ticking exercise than a dream come true. I'll still do what I must, though. For Fenrir. For Cradle. For Humanity.
1. Chapter 1

The sooner somebody invented helicopters, the better.

Flying. The bane of my youth. Ever since the first time I'd put a bullhead out of commission for a week, I had always believed that the best place for my feet was on the ground. Then things had changed, I'd been forced to reconsider my positions, and in the end, flying in itself wasn't all that bad. No, if anything needed to be kept on the ground all the time, it was the bullheads.

Alas, nobody had seen the need to improve something so obviously broken, which was why I was stuck in one of those hulking steel deathtraps. Who knew that using condensed explosions to power aircraft would result in an unstable ride? By all accounts the wind and weather were perfect for flying, but with every flick of the engine or rudder, the entire thing jerked and juddered like a weasel on fire. Helicopters certainly weren't perfect, but the tail rotor did help a lot, and kerosene took more than a sneeze to spontaneously ignite.

Another light breeze brushed against the bullhead, and the pilot overcompensated. The aircraft dropped a good foot before restabilising, sending a few passengers sprawling, and a wave of bile up my throat. I held it back, though. Here I was, ready to be a protector of humanity, a light against the relentless tides of darkness, a third standard inspirational quote that I'd never bothered to remember, et cetera, ad nauseam. The point was, projectile vomiting was not particularly heroic. I was obliged to set an example, and spewing breakfast everywhere was not a good way of doing that.

Also, I didn't want to leave a 'negative impression', so to speak, on anyone that I'd have to spend the next four years with.

Also also, Lindow would never let me live it down.

After far too many more dips and rolls, the bullhead finally pulled into dock. Already, eager students huddled round the exit, ready to be the first ones to see a glimpse of their future. I wasn't among them. I already had a good idea of my future, and lingering nausea plus a scrum of people didn't seem an ideal mix. As the first students streamed out, I took a moment to check my belongings again. Wallet, scroll, toiletries, change of clothes, distinct lack of hard-to-transport weapon, and far too many types of pill, all accounted for. Everything was set.

Barring the pilot, I was the last person off the bullhead, and so the last one to see Beacon for the first time. It was just as it was in the pictures: gleaming spires, rolling promenades, verdant gardens, all combining for a sense of tranquil wonder. It was every child's dream; it had certainly been mine. And now I was here, the culmination of so many years of work, and it was totally underwhelming.

Beacon trained Huntsmen. Huntsmen killed Grimm. Grimm were Monsters. Monsters were what I'd been killing day in, day out, for the past two-and-a-half years. Sure, I still understood why I was here in the first place – Grimm weren't Aragami, and learning the greater intricacies could be the difference between life and death – but that didn't change how the wonder was lost. It didn't feel like a dream come true, but just another part of the job.

I sighed. The job. Yes, it wasn't one I was particularly eager to jump into, nor did I have the people I wanted at my back (Alisa was up in Atlas, Kota was still back on actual Earth, and Lindow alone knew how he was getting on), but it was _my_ job. I knew how important Cradle was, and I was a professional. I'd see it through. Besides, what had my mother always said? Strangers were friends you just hadn't met yet? Something like that, anyway. Idealistic, but not inherently wrong, and having more friends and/or allies of convenience could only prove helpful in the long run.

Speaking of strangers, the landing area was about as empty as the bullhead, save for a girl lying flat on the ground, with two others walking away. I couldn't make out too much at a distance – black hair, black dress, black boots, red cape – but her posture suggested crestfallen, though not injured. It was as good a time as any to start on the whole 'friendship' thing.

I strode over to her (on the shorter side up close), met her eyes (bright silver, of all colours), and reached out a hand. "Hey. I'm Jaune."

The girl looked away for a moment, before taking my hand and pulling herself up. "Ruby."

…

How did friendship work again?

I quickly thought back to my time at Fenrir. Meet some strangers, get assigned on a mission together, shoot and stab some Aragami, save each other's lives a couple of times, get back to base, get blackout drunk together. Repeat until you implicitly have each other's backs. Great! All I needed was a constant supply of life-or-death situations, and a copious supply of alcohol.

It was then that I noticed Ruby was looking at me slightly awkwardly, and that I'd stood in blank silence for a good ten seconds. I said the first thing that came into my head. "Hey, Ruby. I'm Jaune."

Needless to say, I realised how stupid I sounded before the words left my mouth, but it was too late. Thankfully, my involuntary wince of regret came before Ruby fully processed my words, so the resulting awkward laugh was less nervous and more empathetic.

"Alright, please pretend I didn't say that," I corrected myself. "As sad as it may sound, it's been a while since I met anyone new."

"Don't worry," Ruby replied. "I'm not that great around new people either."

Her demeanour made it obvious, but I didn't say it out loud. "Don't worry about it. What was with those two girls earlier?"

I asked this not because of explicit curiosity, but because I had little better in the way of conversation topics. It quickly became apparent that I had not made the best choice, as it was Ruby's turn to wince. "Oh, nothing," she replied, a little too defensively. So something, clearly, but pressing would just serve to alienate her.

"Okay," I said, in the most hopefully-placating tone I could manage. "Just wanted to make sure it was nothing serious. I don't usually find girls sprawled over the floor, that's for sure."

"That? I just tripped. That's all." Ruby was a not a good liar, even for the whitest of lies, but again, this wasn't exactly important enough an issue to force.

"Glad you're alright, then." That would be the end of that unfruitful conversation branch, so I took a moment to check the surroundings. Everyone else had gone out of sight, those two girls earlier included. The bullhead had left again, as well. I expressed as much: "Do you know where everyone else went?"

Ruby quickly looked around as well, and came to the same conclusion as I did. "I think there's a welcoming speech in the auditorium?" she supplied. It sounded feasible, at least.

"Right. I guess we should be getting there as well." With a nod from Ruby, I started down the main path. While I didn't know the exact way, there weren't really any other paths to take.

…

The awkward silence returned.

In truth, I'd been waiting for Ruby to boot up the next topic, mostly because whatever I suggested would likely peter out into the same damp tameness as before. However, given that damp tameness, Ruby probably felt anything she started would end up the same as well. Honestly, it probably would, but awkward conversation was better than awkward silence, right?

Another dozen steps down the main path, I felt obliged to talk again. The standard 'how are you, etc.' starters would just result in the same lukewarm response, so I needed something that at least one of us could talk about. Obviously I had no idea about her interests, but even if it was like talking at a wall, at least she could get to know me better?

So I needed something I was sufficiently qualified to talk interestingly about. I knew Aragami, but that was completely out. I knew beer well, and a dozen other varieties of booze less so, but Ruby didn't look like a drinker. I knew… weapons, sort of? I mean, I knew how to use my weapon, and the basics of maintaining it, but the finer points had always been left to Licca. Still, I could sound mostly intelligent when talking about it, and hopefully Ruby and I could both meaningfully contribute, so I threw it out there for the sake of it.

"So, given that we're both Hunters in training, I imagine we've both got some interesting pieces of kit. What sort of weaponry do you have?"

As soon as 'weapon' left my mouth, Ruby's eyes lit up like a pair of full moons. One of her hands almost reflexively jagged behind her, but she reigned it in a little. "Well…" she slowly began. "I've got this."

With a sort of shy eagerness, she pulled out a small red mechanical thing and pressed a button. Clearly it was collapsible for easy storage, but just how collapsible still took a moment to process. With a huge amount of clicks and whirs, it proceeded to unfold again and again into a positively monstrous scythe, the blade about as long as she was tall, with the haft half again as long.

I had to whistle in appreciation. I'd tried to use a scythe once, in my early days of training, and it had rapidly turned into a horror show, only with real blood instead of fake. Given she was choosing to use something so impractical and self-endangering, she had to be more skilled than she looked. "Nice. I take it you're a melee specialist, then?"

"Nope." With a few twirls, she changed her grip so the bottom of the haft was pointed in the air, and gave a bolt on the side a solid tug. A reassuring ka-chink sound echoed in response. "Crescent Rose here is also a sniper rifle."

Huh. That had been unexpected, but why had it been unexpected? My own weapon could transform between a BFS and a BFG with a twist of the wrist, so why did Ruby's weapon seem less feasible? It took me a few more moments of thought, before I remembered the earlier compactness. "A sniper rifle? That seems sweet, but I can't imagine that keeping the barrel straight and calibrated is easy with all the moving parts you have."

It was a natural question, one out of interest, but it ignited something in Ruby. A _look_ passed across her face. I recognised it. I had seen it many times before, right before Licca began one of her half-hour diatribes on the advantages of weapon maintenance strategy B over strategy Alpha-and-a-Half. While I didn't let my expression change, I internally braced for the fountains of technical jargon, ready to torrent over my head.

"Funny you should mention that," Ruby began. "I didn't think of that initially, so of course I was surprised when all my shots were going off target, but once I realised it was an easy fix. Well, not easy, because there were so many little things to do, but the idea was just to G-Link the flanges and then –"

That was the point I zoned out, though I did remember to nod along occasionally. Ruby, a weapon nut. Not something I'd expected from her appearance, but there was no way to deny her passion as she discussed her choice of screw heads. Sure, I'd have to make sure she'd never meet Licca, not unless I wanted to unleash some sort of monster upon the world, but still, seeing her so bright and vibrant? It felt like the first step to some sort of friendship.

Now, where in any hell was the auditorium?

* * *

Pancakes.

Somewhere in my mind, I remembered the concept of pancakes. Like wisps in the wind, I remembered waking up to that tantalising scent, before heading down to find those heavenly heaps, always so light and fluffy, never greasy, and drenched in warm, sweet, delicious syrup. What I didn't actually remember was the taste itself. With resources already stretched thin, the Den had never been able to afford such luxuries. Breakfast for me had always been bread, soup, or (on the bad days) bread soup.

Now, though, I had the opportunity to refresh those memories. Early mornings had been drilled into me, so I was one of the first to turn up in the dining hall. There they were. A veritable mountain, freely available for any who wished. Warmed to the perfect temperature, rivers of syrup and molten butter cascading down like waterfalls, and oozing that beautiful, beautiful aroma, I could almost hear them whispering. " _Eat me, Jaune. Eat me._ "

And I'd turned them down.

Part of the reason was that as soon as I'd approached the pancakes, an orange-haired girl had immediately started glaring daggers at me, and I didn't want to be involved in a food-based brawl on my second day. It was only a minor reason, though. The larger reason was that they were simply too tempting. Those signs and scents, in addition to inducing hunger pangs, had caused a thousand other memories to begin to surface. None of them were quite yet complete, but I could make out the vague hints: of my sisters' delighted squeals as they dug into their own steaming stacks; of my mother's satisfaction as her work was so bounteously received; of my father's calm bemusement as he watched his children clog their hair with syrup; of a family, so often split by the ardour of life, finding the time to have a proper breakfast together. By taking that ambrosia, all those memories would flow back and come close to overwhelming me. One day, I would come back for them – I promised – but Initiation day was not that day.

With a heavy heart, I turned away from the pancakes, whereupon the orange-haired girl fell upon them with all the savagery of a hurricane. Instead, I settled for a bowl of porridge and a fresh apple. While not inspiring, it was at least nutritious and filling, and certainly still better than eighty percent of breakfasts I could remember.

Food sitting comfortably in my stomach, there was little else for me to do. I couldn't call Alisa, as she was busy with her own Initiation, and Lindow still insisted that only he would call us, not vice versa. Ruby looked to be enjoying some family bonding with her sister, and I didn't want to intrude. And yes, giving the friendship dice another spin was still an option, but with most people anxious for Initiation, it felt less productive than some additional preparation. As most students began drifting into the hall, I left and headed to the changing rooms.

The walk to my locker was longer than I recalled, but uneventful. I did note that the sugar rush had hit pancake girl, as she was now talking with the strength of six people at a boy with that distinct 'oh no, not again' look on his face, but I let them get on with their own business. I stepped past two more girls engaged in their conversation, unlocked my locker and pulled out my gear.

"Nice equipment you've got there."

I paused. That comment had been directed at me, hadn't it? I turned, to find one of those girls (tall, redhead, dressed kinda like Alisa but with a bit less skin) calmly watching me. "You mean this thing?" I gave my sword a shake.

She nodded a reply. "Indeed. I've never seen anything quite like it."

"Thanks. I guess you'll be seeing it more over the next couple of years, but it's really not that impressive."

It was a rushed piece of crap that nobody was satisfied with, that was what I wanted to say. So desperate were we to get it up and running, everything about Cradle had been a rushed job, and nowhere was it more obvious than our barely-functional imitation God Arcs. With all the other work going on in the Den, combined with having to make replicas for the others, Licca had had less than two days to make an eight-foot zweihander, that could transform into an eight-foot cannon, that could also transform into a five-foot tower shield. It was already a miracle that it was close to a good weapon, but neither of us were satisfied with the result. The balance was off, shield deployment was slow, cannon power was down, and she hadn't had any time to replace the devour function with anything, so it just left me with fewer options than my proper weapon. Of course, God Arcs and civilians did not mix, which was why I was using this crappy knock-off in the first place, but still: this redux version of Invida Mors was a rushed piece of crap.

"No, really. I think you're being a little harsh on it." Unaware of my inner rants, Miss Red here continued. She wouldn't know any of that from looking, but given that there weren't many Grimm with razor pinions (Nevermore feathers could pierce through things, yes, but were awful at cutting things off), I could imagine how a (imitation of a) refashioned lump of severed wing would look unusual to her.

"Maybe. The main problem's a bad repair job, rather than anything inherent, so it'll probably be better once I fix all that." It was close enough to the truth, and provided a fair explanation for my recalcitrance. I didn't push it any further, though; there would be a point coming up soon, when humility turned into ingratitude. Probably better to change the subject. "I didn't get your name, did I? I'm Jaune. Pleased to meet you."

Red blinked. Several times, in fact, almost as if her thoughts had slipped a gear. Before I could start thinking of possible explanations, though, the other girl (previously anonymous, shorter, white hair, white everything), interrupted. "Wait a minute. Jaune, is it? Do you really have no idea who you're talking to?"

"Am I supposed to?" I looked back at Red (who had pulled back slightly, seemingly bemused by the direction of the conversation), and racked my brain. Actors? Models? Random people who presented a one-off documentary and then were considered celebrities? There was… not quite nothing, but almost. A memory of a memory, perhaps once useful background knowledge, now long-discarded as useless and unnecessary. Needless to say, it didn't contain a name. "I can't say I do."

The disdain in White's eyes was palpable. "Let me inform you, then. Jaune, this is Pyrrha." Red – Pyrrha – gave a brief hello at her name, but White quickly ploughed through. "Pyrrha graduated top of her class at Sanctum. Ring any bells yet?"

"Sanctum. Sanctum…" Had I applied there, once? Or did I only want to apply, before picking somewhere else because I was an uncoordinated mess? Or was I thinking of Signal, or any of the other combat schools? Anyway, it wasn't helping. "I'm pretty sure that's a school. I don't remember which one, but it's a school."

"Urgh." Yep, White was definitely getting more irritated. Everything showed it: her eyes, her voice, her posture, her breathing, everything. "She's also won the Mistral Regional Tournament four years in a row. A new record, in fact. Helpful?"

I had never paid much attention to things in other countries. "I assume that's a very prestigious achievement?"

My lack of answer did not impress. White's eyes narrowed again, and she promptly started a small fit. "She's on the front of every box of Pumpkin Pete's Marshmallow Flakes! You know that, right?"

"Huh." Pumpkin Pete and all his assorted cereals were something that I remembered. Sure, I didn't remember the shapes and flavours exactly, but they'd been a breakfast staple for my entire childhood, and there were enough memories intact to raise a concern. "I did not know that they made marshmallow-flavoured cereal now."

White's minor fit completely froze. If Pyrrha had slipped a gear earlier, then several executables in White's brain had crashed. Pyrrha took the opportunity to add her own insightful comments. "Actually, they're still pumpkin-flavoured. It's mostly just their regular Pumpkin Flakes, but they mix in some extra marshmallows so kids like them more. You feel them rather than taste them."

"Sounds decent." I'd never been a fan of those flakes in my childhood – always preferring the puffs – but I did see the appeal of added marshmallows. Granted, most of that was because marshmallows hadn't exactly been a commodity back at the Den, but it would still be a nice thing to taste. "Remind me to try those some time."

"Wait one second." It had taken a moment, but had finished rebooting, and she was pushing right back into the conversation. "Maybe haven't heard of Pyrrha Nikos, but how have you not heard of Marshmallow Flakes? Didn't you see the ad campaigns? Have you lived in a cave for the past six months?"

"Not exactly, but close enough." Two-thirds of the Den was underground, so if you squinted, maybe it counted as a cave? At least if those Marshmallow Flakes had been a new introduction, it made sense I wouldn't know about them. Also, White had frozen up again, so I turned my attention back to the other girl. "Hey, Pyrrha. Our friend here said you won some tournaments or something. Want to spar some time?"

Given that the only person I'd ever sparred properly with was Alisa, I really did need new sparring partners. Hopefully Pyrrha did too, but there was a significant pause as she considered it. What could she be thinking of? My strength, if I was worth fighting? Unlikely. Yes, we'd know each other for two minutes, but she didn't seem quite battle-focussed enough for that. Public relations concerns? If she was some sort of celebrity, then –

" –re."

I was deep enough in thought that I didn't hear Pyrrha's reply clearly. I just gave a slightly sheepish grin. "Sorry, I was distracted. Could you repeat that?"

Pyrrha responded with her own smile, warm if slightly patronising. "Sure, Jaune. I'd love to have a spar with you some time."

* * *

Initiation: get literally thrown into a forest, pair up basically at random, collect a poorly-described relic, get out of there before sunset. Oh, and don't get eaten by all the Grimm. Easy, right?

"Aaaah!"

Screams. Shouts. Panic. Cries to retreat and reorganise, lost in the chaos. Deathstalker charging, breaking our formation. Flock of Nevermore circling, to pick off stragglers. Morale low. No obvious escape.

I'd faced worse odds alone.

"I'll keep the Deathstalker busy! Deal with the Nevermore!" In the end, a Deathstalker was just a mutant, overgrown scorpion. I'd dealt with dozens, if not hundreds of them before, except most of those could shoot lightning. I could tank one measly Deathstalker for days, as long as nothing else was trying to eat my face.

"Are you crazy?" someone else shouted. The white girl – Weiss, I think. "You can't face something like that head-on! We have to fall back and regroup!"

"Trust me on this!" I countered. I didn't blame her doubt, given she hadn't lived what I'd lived. "Focus on the fliers for now, and when they're all down, we can deal with this here and now." As if backing up my points, the Deathstalker chose that moment to try impale me with its stinger. I simply ducked, then deployed my shield to block the follow-up decapitation attempt.

Weiss made some sort of frustrated noise, but to her credit, she disengaged from the scorpion and started rallying people for a more coordinated attack on the Nevermore. Of course, people preparing to attack aren't actually attacking, and said Nevermore took the lull to carpet them with razor-black feathers. Thankfully a wall of ice blocked them from any harm; Weiss's semblance was certainly proving its worth.

Less thankfully, the Deathstalker also tried to take advantage of that lull, and turned its attention away from me. That would have meant a very obvious opening to smash off a leg or too, except Weiss or Ruby or someone would be eaten in the time it took. Nope, the best course of action was to recklessly jump in the way of its claws. While everyone was naturally worried about my lack of self-preservation, my shield didn't even buckle. Badly made it may have been, but at least the materials were good.

Anyway, since it just tried to shred me, it would probably now try to sting me, so I adjusted my grip and footwork, ready to deflect the incoming thrust. It never came. With a ring of steel, the Deathstalker screamed in pain, an ugly red gash oozing out on its stinger. Quickly retreating from its thrashing form, Pyrrha danced to my flank. "You looked like you needed some help there. Are you sure you have this?"

As before with Weiss, I understood my partner's doubts. "If you're offering, I'll take it." Pyrrha was competent enough that she could help without getting in my way; her skill set also didn't seem too well-suited against high-flyers, so this was just a better use of resources. "Don't take any risks, though. Let me take the big hits, and if you see any more opportunities like that, go for them."

Pyrrha looked like raising an objection. I ignored it. Instead, I jumped in the way of another claw strike, this one aimed at the pancake girl from earlier (whose name I still didn't pick up). She apparently didn't notice the giant Grimm trying to bisect her, choosing the moment to launch a Dust grenade into the sky. The blonde girl – Ruby's sister – Yang, that was it – then proceeded to punch it, with far more force than seemed reasonable or necessary. Somehow it didn't explode right then, only detonating after the force of the punch smashed it into one of the circling Nevermore. I smiled at the sight of charred lumps of Grimm crashing into the forest canopy. One down, more to go.

Wait, make that two down. A clunk of a bolt, a pull of a trigger and a small cheer later, Ruby sniped down the second of the flock. This was going well, and as long as nothing bad happened, we'd clean this up no problem.

As an aside, some people may say that such phrases as 'as long as nothing goes wrong' and the like do nothing but tempt fate. Those people are stupid. A single sentence isn't going to change the outcome of anything significant. Indeed, in that circumstance with the Nevermore and Deathstalker, despite the dangerous flags I raised, nothing bad happened.

The Deathstalker attempted to kill me. Another Nevermore exploded. Nothing bad happened.

Pyrrha took out an eye. Weiss froze a bird mid-flight. Nothing bad happened.

I stood firm. A bit of falling Grimm grazed my cheek. Nothing – well, maybe that last one counted as something bad, but otherwise, nothing bad happened.

And with that, the flock was gone, dead or otherwise scattered, and all was left was one Grimm and eight fighters. Yes, we were all tired and battered – my blade would need a long, long tune-up after this – but we were alive, and eager to finish this.

The Grimm sensed it. It knew it was encircled, and facing impending demise, so sought escape. It looked for the weakest link in the circle – Ruby, apparently – and tried to break through. In doing so, it took its attention away from me, as before, and left me with an all-too-obvious opening, as so many times before.

This time, I took it.

As soon as it started turning, my weapon was moving. I knew exactly where I was aiming. I hadn't been idly blocking its rips and jabs; I'd taken a good look at its movements, looking for all its weak points, the joints and chinks in its exoskeleton that a weapon could slip through. My target barely counted as a weak point. Even with the gap in the chitin, the skin was still thick and heavy there, enough that most weapons would still struggle to get through.

Most weapons weren't eight feet of solid steel, though.

I didn't scream in exertion or anything, for there was no need. With just a grit of the teeth, I buried Invida Mors into the base of the Grimm's tail, right where it met its body. Dull and unpolished the blade may have been, its weight had a quality of its own. With barely a hint of resistance, hide and flesh gave way, and the entire tail was torn off onto the forest floor.

Writhing, twisting, spasming, obviously the Deathstalker reacted, but none of that was controlled, and all of it was easy to dodge. Still, it turned towards me in its rage, just in time to see me shifting my weapon into cannon form, and aiming it right towards its face. As much as I wasn't the sort of person for one-liners, the moment was perfect.

"Boom. Headshot."

I pulled the trigger, and the Deathstalker exploded.

* * *

"Cardin Winchester, Russel Thrush, Dove Bronzewing, Sky Lark. The four of you retrieved the black bishop pieces. From this day forward, you will work together as Team Cardinal, led by Cardin Winchester."

Many people looked up to Professor Ozpin, and not just because he was on a raised dais. Probably because he was the headmaster at Beacon, and so was the best example of a huntsman to strive towards, or something like that. Ruby, in any case, had stars in her eyes, and everyone else from our incident in the forest was at least looking attentive. Me, though?

All I could think of was how much Ozpin looked like Paylor Sakaki.

I'd noticed it in the auditorium on the day before, but the resemblance was still uncanny. Honestly, they could have been brothers. They had the same hair colour, the same facial structure, the same hair style, the same crappy-enough eyesight to need glasses, even a similar dress sense. There was a similarity in their voices, too: while they sounded nothing alike on the surface (which was enough to tell them apart), they had a same tired undertone, of somebody who'd seen too much and knew more than they liked. Given their similar positions of power, it was almost to be expected.

Anyway, given that pile of similarities, part of me extrapolated further, and concluded that Ozpin would keep most of his secrets close to his chest, only telling us what we needed to know, but still be acting in our best interests in the end. The more rational part of me said that that extrapolation was stupid, and went back to listening to the ceremony.

"Jaune C. Arc, Nora Valkyrie, Pyrrha Nikos, Lie Ren." Hey, that was us. With a quick glance to make sure my soon-to-be teammates were following, I walked up onto the stage. "The four of you collected the white rook pieces. From this day forward, you will work together as Team Juniper, led by Jaune Arc."

Huh. Leadership, again. While I wouldn't say that I felt I deserved it, putting the mantle back on still felt appropriate. It would be like back at Fenrir, only with fewer life-or-death situations and more teenage drama. I could handle that. I didn't have to force any smiles as I led my team back off, the crowd (politely) applauding us all the way.

"And finally: Ruby Rose, Weiss Schnee, Blake Belladonna, and Yang Xiao-Long." Here came the other half of our escapade. "The four of you retrieved the white knight pieces. From this day forward, you will work together as Team Ruby, led by Ruby Rose."

Ruby? I knew I didn't have the best view of events, but I'd have guessed that Weiss had shown more leadership qualities in the forest. Then again, Ozpin might have been using different metrics. In any case, she might be a bit rough to start with, but with a bit of experience, she'd turn out a fine leader.

Anyway, as the crowd applauded Ruby's new team, my attention turned back to my own. Pyrrha Nikos: a prodigy tournament fighter, with some degree of celebrity. Nora Valkyrie: a pancake lover with a similar love for explosions. Lie Ren: a person. Okay, I didn't know much about him, but he apparently downed two Nevermore without me noticing, and he also looked surprisingly like the other Ren I knew.

If given a free choice, would I have chosen this team? Well, no, because the team I picked would have been Alisa, Kota and Lindow, none of whom were actually proper options. Would I still prefer my old team to them? Well, yes, because we had two-and-a-half years of shared experience, living, fighting and surviving together, and that couldn't be overwritten so quickly. But in the end, none of that mattered.

This was my team, and I was their leader. Abandoning them was never an option. From this day forth, they were my responsibility, and I was theirs. We were in this together, from now until the bitter end.

Team Juniper would work. I'd make sure of it.

* * *

 **Unrelenting tides of monsters seeking to devour the vestiges of civilisation? Check. Specially-trained warriors standing against them? Check. Even with an extremely broad lens, the worlds of RWBY and God Eater are remarkably similar, so a crossover seems natural. Combined with the popularity of Competent!Jaune fics on the site, writing a story with Jaune a veteran of the God Eater world felt like it had the highest potential.**

 **Given the niche-ness of the God Eater Franchise, I imagine most readers will be more familiar with RWBY than God Eater. I recommend Google to learn more, but to summarise extremely briefly: in the near future, monsters known as Aragami began devouring all life on Earth. Conventional weaponry proved ineffective, but implanting weapons with Aragami cells created weapons called God Arcs that actually worked. People trained to use these weapons against the Aragami are called God Eaters. There are obviously a lot more nuances, which I hope to delve into more in further chapters.**

 **In any case, I hope you enjoyed this. If you did, please leave a review so I know what I'm doing right; if you didn't, please leave a review so I know what I'm doing wrong. In regards to updates, I can't promise anything regular, but more feedback means more motivation to write, rather than procrastinate in other ways.**


	2. Chapter 2

_Time passed, the sky began to darken, and the boy ran out of tears. Forcing down his last sobs, he turned back to his nightmare. "I'm sorry," he murmured, to console himself more than anything else. Standing up, he forced his tears away and stared into the ash-choked sky._

 _And thus there was silence. No animals, of course, but more than that. No cries for help, no muffled sobs in the rubble, no breathing but his own. He didn't bother search any more. He knew what he'd find._

 _No. Wait. Not quite silence. It was behind him, but there was a distant crunching sound, not unlike footsteps on gravel. Instinctively, he turned to look._

 _It was a_ thing _, that was the first thought. Grey, bipedal, it looked somewhat like a shark on legs. Armless, its head more than compensated, being as big as the rest of its body and filled with far too many teeth. Its tail was also vaguely fishlike, flattening into a broad scythe, covered with extra spikes. But the eyes were the most shark-like. Tingled in pale yellow, they were the cold, efficient eyes of a predator. More than that, they looked hungry._

 _A chill passed down his spine. There was no doubt about it. It was coming straight for him. There was nowhere to hide. From its speed of approach, he could never outrun it. That left fighting, but he was under no illusions. He probably had no chance, but when death was the alternative, he had to try._

 _Never before had he been so grateful for his family's overzealousness. His father had carried his sword at every moment, as insurance against would-be criminals; while he'd never wielded it before in his life, it was still a better defence than a rock. Silently praying to whoever would listen, he pried Crocea Mors from the debris. He drew the blade and prepared the shield, ready to face his end._

 _The beast looks at him, a predator watching its prey. A moment passes, tension mounts, and then it shrieks, an unholy wail of death and forlorn hope. He barely has enough time to raise his shield before it flings a salvo of spines from its tail, right towards his chest._

 _He expects the shield to shield him. It doesn't. The spikes chew deep, far deeper than expected, straight through the shield and into his arm._

 _Pain spikes, he screams and stumbles. The beast senses weakness and pounces. Any sense of form or strategy collapses. It's all he can do to thrash around, one arm desperately trying to keep that maw away from him, the other wailing around trying to hit a miracle._

 _The miracle never comes._

 _He thrusts for an eye, and gets the blade stuck between two teeth instead. Before he can pull it free, the beast swipes its head, snatching it from his grasp. Weaponless, he can only watch as it tries to shake the irritant lose, before settling on a more proactive method._

 _It bites down. For a moment, nothing happens, but then a crack appears on the blade. From a tiny nick, it ripples along the edge like a plague. Then one crack becomes two, becomes a dozen, and becomes uncountable._

 _It jerks its jaw one more time, and it's all over. Crocea Mors, ancestral weapon of the Arc clan, shatters into a thousand pieces._

* * *

Room 302, north wing. Four desks, four beds, some shelves, a closet-wardrobe combination, a small ensuite and a window. Slightly cramped, but in a cozy way rather than suffocating. And, for the next four years, home of Team Juniper.

Not that it looked homely at that moment. All of my teammates had packed similarly to me, meaning that our collective stuff could still fit into a large backpack. The closest things to personal touches in the room were Pyrrha's toolkit and my medicine box. The warm curtains and duvet covers did help uplift the décor a little, but overall the room still felt bland more than anything else.

Nora had come to the same conclusion as me, as she was animated talking to and/or at Ren (Lie? It wasn't clear which was his actual name, but 'Ren' made the R of Juniper) about possible decorative changes. I caught some mentions of 'Ursa-skin rugs' and 'sloth statues', but let Ren weather the storm. Pyrrha watched the scene with a gentle smile on her face, but I didn't disturb her either. I had some leadership slurry to sort out.

While the actual duties of a team leader were somewhat nebulous and badly-defined, there were still the obvious duties like 'make sure your team goes to class' and 'don't let your teammates starve to death'. But even the basics needed prerequisite information, like when and where classes were, and how to get food on campus. Hence, I was on my scroll, flicking through the student handbook. There was too much to take in all in one go, but I could at least work one day ahead.

First thing tomorrow morning: Grimm Studies, Professor Port, Theatre 2A. Except the map provided was four years out of date, with Theatre 2A not even on it. Hopefully it got corrected by tomorrow, but better to ask rather than get lost. Breakfast would also be important; they wouldn't have moved the mess hall if they had any sense, but better to wake up a bit earlier and be safe.

Afternoon: Combat, Professor Goodwitch, Ring C. That's actually on the map, no problems there. What'll they actually teach us, though? Philosophy a la Sun Tzu? Theoretical tricks and techniques? Groundwork? Teamwork? Practical application? It couldn't all be covered, and I'd definitely want my team to have a grounding in all of it. We'd need to do the rest in our free time; I quickly sent a request to book a training ring.

"Hey, leader!"

An energetic voice interrupted my (admittedly boring) planning. Putting my scroll down, I turned to the new centre of attention. "What is it, Nora?"

"Well, Jauney – I can call you Jauney, right? – me and Renny have been together forever – but not together-together, you know – but we and you and Pyrrha only just met today, and we don't know you, and you don't know us, so maybe we could get to know each other better?"

I looked at my other two teammates (not hyped, but not shying away either). I looked down at my scroll (three-quarters of the handbook to go). I looked back at Nora (still bright and cheerful and etc.). I looked back at my scroll (some of the words didn't look like words any more). I sighed, and put my scroll down.

Yes, there was a big pile of bureaucracy that needed to be done by the end of the week, like elective choice, dietary intolerance acknowledgements, and half-a-dozen other forms all of which seemed to be signing away some right to sue, but it could wait a little and, more importantly, was incredibly boring. And yes, I'd have preferred the 'team bonding' thing to come naturally over the corpses of hundreds of Grimm, but if my team wanted it the stilted artificial way, who was I to veto them? Let's roll. "I'm up for it. Did you have any suggestions on how to do it?"

"Maybe? I heard Two Truths and a Lie is fun in times like this."

Yes, after everyone had too much beer and stopped caring about offending each other. Stone-cold sober, it felt underwhelming, albeit still miles better than generic 'tell me about yourself' and 'fun facts'. Regardless, Pyrrha seemed unfamiliar with the concept. "I don't think I've heard of that game before."

"You tell two truths and a lie about yourself," I helpfully supplied. "Then we try guess which one's the lie. Go ahead. Try it now."

Pyrrha blinked. "Umm…" she mumbled, apparently caught off guard. "I went to Sanctum, my weapon's name is Miló, and my favourite food is pizza?"

It was my turn to blink. Nora blinked as well. The two of us made eye contact, and silent words were exchanged. Even if this endeavour was doomed to peter out, we should at least try to make it interesting. "That one doesn't count," I said. "Sure, it's two things that are true about you and one that isn't, but it doesn't tell us anything new about you." Especially since it was easy to guess; I knew from that morning she'd graduated from Sanctum, and what sort of monster didn't like pizza? "I'll go next. I'm Jaune – I'll give you that's a truth, but it obviously doesn't count. I'm an only child, my favourite drink is beer, or more specifically bottled lager, and I once took out a sleuth of Ursai nothing but a can opener."

That earnt more of a reaction. More specifically, a questioning glance from Ren, a guffaw from Nora, and a confused 'what' from Pyrrha. "The can opener's got to be the lie, right?"

"Or it could be true, and I could be making my others seem so mundane that you'd think it was the lie," I reasoned. Pyrrha didn't look convinced, but she didn't need to be. "And anyway, as team leader I'm adjusting the rules. We'll all take our turns lying to each other's faces before any guessing, alright?"

(This wasn't a flagrant abuse of leadership, I swear. I did actually have a reason for this.)

Nora grumbled something about moving the goalposts, but Ren gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. "No objections here. I'll go next. My name is Lie Ren; Ren is my surname, though I go by it none the less. I once meditated under a waterfall for three days, I prefer coffee to tea, and I'm partial to the occasional sip of absinthe."

Absinthe? Ren looked almost less of a drinker than Ruby, but who in their right mind thought of absinthe when making a lie like that? Pyrrha and Nora looked to be juggling similarly profound contemplations, but the latter quickly shook herself free and took her turn.

"I'm Nora! I've known Renny longer than he's known me, I've never owned a pair of trousers, and the only reason I like pancakes so much is because I didn't own a waffle iron when growing up."

Nothing outlandish, everything feasible, and why was Pyrrha chuckling? I turned, and she simply pointed at Ren. I turned again. There it was, perhaps the most out-of-context look of abject betrayal I'd ever seen. It was the look of a man who'd discovered that his best friend of years had actually been four otters in a trenchcoat all along. It was frozen, it was gormless, and it had been caused by an off-hand remark about pancakes.

It was beautiful.

Ren regained his senses before me and Pyrrha stopped laughing, and settled on giving us a disappointed frown. Both of us ignored it. "I think I get it now," Pyrrha said. "I'm Pyrrha Nikos, I have over two million Lien in the bank, I once won a tournament when every single other competitor withdrew rather than face me, and I like pineapple on pizza. It's a pleasure to know all of you."

All of that was plausible if she was a really good tournament fighter, which she apparently was. Anyway, time for why I'd changed the rules –

"Oh, Pyrrha, you should make a sneakier lie. Nobody likes pineapple on pizza."

Pyrrha looked at the girl who'd spoken, carefully considering her words. A good five or six seconds passed before her mouth opened again. "Actually, that one was true."

Nora did not respond immediately. The expression on her face was fixed, locked in a sort of strange smile, confident only because she'd forgotten to change it. Another five-odd seconds passed in a tense silence, waiting for Nora's reaction – wait, why was Ren hiding behind the –

"HERETIC!"

By the time the wreckage settled, we had wordlessly agreed to not make any more guesses, and to let Ren order all pizza in the future. At least we sort of knew each other better?

* * *

Grimm Studies. The studies of the Grimm. The lesson in which we would be taught everything about the beasts: types, characteristics, physiology, strengths, weaknesses, and the like. Perhaps the most important lesson for future Hunters, as information was always the key to victory. It was certainly the most important for me, and for Cradle's future prospects.

"Monsters. Demons. Prowlers of the Night. Yes, the creatures of Grimm have many names. But I merely refer to them as prey."

It. Burned.

I had met many inspirational speakers in my time. There was… okay, I hadn't met many inspirational speakers in my time. Dad had been inspiring enough in the usual fatherly way, Lindow sort-of counted, and teenage hormones meant that all the girls sort-of counted as well, but most people I'd met were as inspirational as a brightly-coloured potato. Professor Port, now? His speech didn't even have the benefit of colour.

Nothing about it was stoked any part of the spirit. Every single word from his mouth droned on about his own past glories, something that not only made him sound like a dated relic, but also alienated all of his audience – how were we supposed to resonate with something we had never and likely would never experience? His sentences rambled on without apparent direction – what did the smell of cabbages have to do with anything – which just told us that there would be no payoff for listening. All of it was directed at us rather than towards us, expecting us to laugh along with every misfired quip, only serving to build a bigger wall between us and him. But above all of that, above all that awful presentation, the most unforgiveable part was the utter lack of meaningful content.

After filtering out all the garbage, the first thirty minutes boiled down to 'Beowulves travel in packs and Boarbatusks do not'. Half the lesson. For eight words of information.

To distract myself from the internal screaming, I checked to see how my team was holding on. Nora wasn't; she was out like a light, mumbling quiet dreams of pancakes. Ren also wasn't; his eyes were still open, but unfocussed and slightly trancelike. Probably mediating, and I couldn't blame him. Or Nora, for that matter. Pyrrha, on the other hand, was actually trying: she'd filled up a page with notes, but even I could see that they were barely-legible, filled mostly with irrelevance and almost certainly useless for revision. It would make interesting wallpaper, at least?

In the row in front of us, Team Ruby was doing just as badly, if not worse. Of the four of them, Weiss was the only one who was giving half a grain of attention, but even that was boiling away in frustration. Ruby, meanwhile, had doodle a serviceable caricature of the teacher, and was guffawing at her own handiwork. Yang had mentally checked out, staring dopily into the distance, lost in her own thoughts, while the last girl – Blake, I think – had a book open in her lap, out of the teacher's sight. The rest of the students were similarly absent in spirit. The jury had spoken on Port, and I, the judge, agreed. Banned from teaching would be a suitable punishment.

Alas, we had no way of enforcing this, and there were twenty-seven minutes to go in the lesson. As tempting as sleep sounded, I still felt obliged to attempt to try take something from this pile of shambles. Given how soul-crushing taking this at face value was, maybe I had to read between the lines?

Probably not, but tenuous overextrapolation was better than nothing.

Okay. He wouldn't have mentioned the smell of cabbages unless it was relevant. He mentioned it in regard to a Beowulf hunt. The two were linked. Maybe… maybe Beowulves were vulnerable to the scent of cabbage. Maybe that smell blocked their noses, and prevent them from tracking us. Thus, before any encounter with the Grimm, we should soak our clothes in cabbage juice, to minimise the number of Beowulves attempting to kill us.

…

Who was I kidding? I'd take my team back out into the Emerald Forest, and we'd do our Grimm Studies the practical way.

* * *

Everyone was slightly caught off-guard at the end of Grimm Studies, at the actual presence of something not completely mind-numbing: Weiss stepped up and fought a Boarbatusk. It wasn't a great showing, but at least she didn't get injured. There did appear to be a few teething issues within Team Ruby, but it had been less than a day. Hopefully they'd sort it out by themselves.

Back on topic, there was an unexpected bit of fighting in Grimm Studies. In contrast, the fighting in Combat class was anything but unexpected – it was Combat, after all. The thing which I didn't foresee, though, was the amount of practical classwork.

"Nothing but fights," I muttered to myself. As in, all the class was just beating up others, and watching others beat up other others. It was refreshing in its simplicity, but the lack of any theoretical bits did irk me. It would take more of our free time before my team was where I wanted it to be.

"For this session, only team leaders will be sparring." At the front, Professor Goodwitch was calm, authoritative and organised, creating the exact opposite image to Port's earlier attempt. "Cardin Winchester and Jaune C. Arc, please enter the arena."

Me on first. Wonderful. As much as I was used to extra focus on me, that didn't mean I relished it.

"Go leader!"

At least my team had my back. Pyrrha and Ren had moved to calm our overexuberant fourth, but they were still hopeful for my success. Across the room, a ginger boy was rising to her feet, team cheering him on as well. My opponent, then.

At a distance, the only things I could discern were some bits of heavy armour plate, just to protect the vitals, along with a heavy mace. Probably the type to bludgeon through problems headfirst, finesse and cunning optional extras. Down in the ring, his posture suggested the same story: tall, open, plenty of offensive options open but holes everywhere. Suicidal if you didn't know what you were doing, but I didn't have the right kit to test him.

Still, there was an incredibly obvious plan. I made it, and immediately set it into action.

"On my mark, begin!"

My opponent – Cardin – surged forwards immediately, weapon high above his head. He covered the distance in under two seconds, and with a bear-like roar, smashed his mace straight into my skull.

Well, tried to. By using the ancient technique known as stepping backwards, the swing flew past me, an inch from my face. Some people in the crowd whistled their appreciation. I wasn't bothered. A miss was a miss, and it was all part of the plan.

Mace crashed into ground, leaving a sizable dent. Undeterred by his whiff, my foe changed his grip, and swung upwards with a brutal uppercut, straight towards my throat.

I stepped out the way again.

Cardin didn't let up the pressure. He didn't waste any strength in his follow-through, letting his momentum take him back to a neutral position. This lasted for a tenth of a second, before he twisted his grip again and lunged for my liver.

I stepped out the way again.

His momentum took him closer to me, closer than either of our effective ranges. He noticed it too, and rather than try arrest it, he pushed forward even more. Dropping one hand from his weapon, he dived to grab my neck.

I stepped out the way again.

He still didn't try stop his momentum. Instead, he knuckled down further and tried to tackle me to the ground.

I stepped out the way again.

You get the picture. Cardin attacks, I dodge. Cardin attacks, I dodge. Rinse, spin, dry, repeat. Was it pretty? Of course it wasn't. Each of Cardin's moves were big, flashy and impressive, while I hadn't even tried to attack once. While the crowd were beginning to see that my enemy's actions were mostly futile, he was certainly putting on a better show than me, and so had the lion's share of the support. I couldn't tell who exactly was cheering for me, but it was probably only my team and Ruby.

Still, the plan was walking perfectly.

It took a good dozen dodges, but eventually, the effects added up. Cardin had just returned to his neutral stance, and had tried to start a combination with another downwards smash. I dodged it, of course, but that wasn't the point. No, the important part was the speed: it was noticeably slower than his first smash. Not much, maybe only a quarter of a second at the beginning, but it was definitely there. He was tiring.

He was in heavy armour with a heavy weapon. Dodging until he wore himself out was obvious.

The rest of the fight happened in the same way. Attack, dodge, attack, dodge, etc. Eventually, Cardin did catch on, and tried to break my rhythm with some choice insults, but I ignored them. I knew I wasn't overcompensating for anything, and I'd lost all my manly pride the night Kanon chased me naked through the Den. Everything was in control.

My nemesis, to his credit, was a good fighter. I wasn't familiar with maces, but I could still tell his technique was good, if full of the aforementioned defensive holes. His endurance was good as well, managing to get a good fifty heavy swings in before significantly lagging. Unfortunately for him, my endurance was better.

My target had just made his seventh hole in the floor, but hadn't started his follow-up. His muscles were probably burning, forcing him to take a breather. It looked like a wide opening. It wasn't. He had eyes, a reaction time, and was looking at my weapon. By the time I was ready to swing, he'd be up and in my face again.

But it was a narrow opening, and by looking at my weapon, he wasn't looking at me. The perfect opening, then, to dart in and punch him in the face.

Tired and too focussed on my weapon, Cardin didn't put up his aura up in time. Flesh collided with unprotected flesh, and he staggered back, caught in a daze. It looked like a wide opening. It wasn't. I knew that I wasn't the strongest puncher. By the time I was ready to swing, he'd have recovered enough to desperately dive out the way, then punish me in my follow through.

But it was a medium opening, and he was certainly stunned for a second. The perfect opening, then, to grab him and knee him in the face.

Already stunned, Cardin definitely couldn't put up his aura, and my knees were a lot stronger than my fists. He collapsed to the ground, like a sack of puppet parts. It looked like a wide opening.

It was.

The continued dodging had tired me a little a well, so it was with a small grunt of effort than it lifted my blade. It was with a larger grunt of effort that I brought it crashing down onto Cardin's prone form –

Only for my weapon to hit some kind of invisible wall, and for something to drag me away from my quarry.

"Jaune, that's enough." The Professor's firm voice brought back the greater context. "Students, while Mr. Winchester's aura is still in the green, hopefully you can all see that he is not in a state to battle further. To prevent injury, I am stopping the match here."

One eyebrow arched at me the tiniest fraction, and it took a moment to process it. Giant sword. Human not as tough as God Eater. Not fully protected by Aura. Probably not the best combination. Yeah, she'd definitely been right to stop it. Not a good idea to do that again.

"Wooh! Go Jaune!"

The moment of reflection was ended by Nora, unexpectedly but not surprisingly. She followed up her cheer with a round of vigorous applause. While it did sound strange initially, due to her being the only person clapping, Ren and Pyrrha quickly joined in, and soon the whole room was politely applauding.

Goodwitch waited for the claps to fade back down before offering her advice. "Mister Arc, while I do not object to you adopting a defensive strategy, I would advise you to consider your contingencies, in case your defences are overwhelmed." It was a valid point, one that I'd planned for back at Fenrir, but those plans were against Aragami and would need a lot of readjustment. "Mister Winchester, my advice to you is similar: please consider your plans in case your offence proves unfruitful." Meanwhile, Cardin had mostly recovered. He still looked groggy, but was back on his feet and grudgingly agreeing to the instructor's advice.

He also seemed to have forgotten I existed. I would have liked to just go back to my team and be done with it, but I still had that whole 'sportsmanship' thing to do. I walked over to him and offered a hand. "Hey. Good match."

Cardin looked at me, looked down at my hand, then scoffed and walked away.

* * *

"Guys, do you mind staying behind after class? I want to do some team training."

Pyrrha did not know what Jaune had in plan for their team – she was not a mind reader, after all – but she could still recognise that knowing all their styles and proficiencies would make those plans better. It had been unexpected, but she'd been happy to agree with his request. Ren and Nora also took no issue.

Her introduction to life at Beacon had been… acceptable. Not quite _good_ , but acceptable. Her initial high hopes had rapidly turned to dust even before she'd set foot on school property, with dozens of fellows on the bullhead gawping, falling head-over-heels and asking for autographs. That had burnt itself out rather quickly, only to be replaced by the too-familiar shell of her reputation. Once again, she was the invincible girl, destined to stand alone above all others. Regrettably, she had sighed and prepared for an isolated four years.

And then Jaune had happened.

All she'd wanted was someone who didn't know or didn't mind her past, and Jaune had fit that bill. She'd been a little concerned when he'd asked for a spar, but his expression at the time had quickly put those fears to rest. He didn't want to fight the Invincible Girl, but merely a girl who some people otherwise called invincible. The difference mattered, and it told her that he was the friend she'd been looking for.

She may have taken some unnecessary risks in initiation to get them paired together, but that was neither here nor there.

"Alright, guys," her partner's voice rang out. It was early days yet, but she could already feel that Jaune knew what he was doing as a leader. "I've got enough for the two of you. Both of you, get some rest."

"You sure, leader? Me and Renny can definitely go on –"

"It's fine, Nora. I don't want any of us to get too tired. Take a break. You've earned it."

Nora gave a salute, while Ren nodded in acknowledgement, before both retired to the showers. She hadn't been initially sold on her other two teammates, but they'd won her over quickly enough. While she could see in both their eyes that they looked up to her, it was more as a thing to surpass than an unreachable ideal. Plus, neither let it colour their interactions with her. Nora's perpetual cheer was infectious, always brightening her environment, while Ren's calm serenity provided the perfect counterweight, a glue to bind the team together. She couldn't wish for a better team.

Well, taste in pizza excepted.

"You okay to go now, Pyrrha?"

"Hmm? Oh, sure." Her partner was at her side, tidying the notes he'd made on their other teammates' methods. She let him finish, and headed down to the ring first. It was a minor detour to connect her scroll to the aura reader, and then – "Jaune, don't you need to connect your scroll as well?"

The boy in question, already in the middle of the arena, shrugged sheepishly. "No? I've found that the readings can be a little misleading. I know my limits well enough, so I prefer going without the readout. I'll surrender if I can't continue."

Pyrrha frowned. That was… not only did it go against every tournament ruleset in history, not to mention the ruleset at Beacon, it was also an easy way to get himself injured for no reason. It was stupid. Jaune did know his way around a fight – Cardin and the Deathstalker proved that – but this was reckless. "I really think you should –"

"I'll be fine, Pyrrha. Trust me."

She mentally groaned. There really would be no convincing him. She'd have to hold back.

Oh, she'd always planned to – there was no point in going full Semblance in a friendly spar – but without knowing when to stop, she'd have to hold back further, to avoid even the slightest risk of injury. She couldn't go more than, what? Fifteen percent? Giving a silent nod of acceptance, she drew Miló and settled into a basic stance.

"Three, two, one, begin."

Neither of them moved. She'd predicted Jaune to take the defensive, but had wanted to avoid any surprises at the start. When none were forthcoming, she raised her shield in front of her and began pressing forwards.

Jaune didn't move. She hadn't expected him to.

Tentatively, she began probing his defences. Nothing major: a thrust at the chest, a chop at the shoulder, a slash at the head, things like that. Nothing that could break his aura if it hit, all just to get a better feel of his darts and dodges.

He avoided all her strikes with ease. It was just like the fight with Cardin: his footwork was light, his steps small, only barely moving enough to avoid the hits. There was no flair to it, only function, one tiny step followed by another tiny step. It was almost natural, like water parting around a stone, even without considering the huge mass of steel that was his weapon. It would have been a ball and chain to any other, but in his hands, it was like a dancer's ribbon.

All the while, though, he didn't try to attack, or even try to try to attack. Just like in the fight with Cardin, that was his style: endless defence, followed by brutal counters. A fair plan, but like Goodwitch suggested, one easy to overwhelm. She could probably do it on her own.

She didn't, though. His movements were fast, agile and measured enough that breaking through wouldn't be trivial. She couldn't do it while only giving twenty percent, and even if she could, the risk of harm was too high. Within the limits she'd set herself, she wouldn't be able to win against Jaune.

 _She wanted to win._

No. She pushed that competitive streak to the side. Victory or loss wasn't important here. What mattered was making sure the both of them got out in one piece.

Swallowing her pride, she pushed forwards again. This time, though, her attack was weightier, a downward slash from shoulder to hip. It was clumsy and easy to avoid, but more importantly, left a big gap on her right that Jaune could exploit.

He saw it, eyes lit up, and he took a bigger step backwards.

Pyrrha clicked her tongue. That obviously hadn't been what she'd wanted. He'd probably expected a trap, a counter of some kind, and backed off to get away from it. If she'd been trying harder, it would have been – use the forwards momentum to bash him with Akoúo while he's preparing to attack – but this time, it had just been a regular opening to exploit. She'd have to leave bigger holes.

If anyone had seen them then, they'd have thought it a farce. The Invincible Girl, bumbling around like she'd never held a sword in her life, against a blond nobody who was just humouring her naïvety. Thankfully, nobody saw them – Ren and Nora were taking their time with their showers, and everyone else had better things to do – so nobody else saw it when Jaune chose not to dodge one of her thrusts, letting it graze his cheek.

As soon as she saw the specks of blood, she dropped her weapon immediately. "Oh, Gods, Jaune, I'm so sorry! Let me –"

A raised hand stopped her. "Don't worry about it, Pyrrha. I heal quickly." To prove the point, he wiped the blood from his face, to reveal unblemished skin underneath. "I get that you're worried about hurting me without the aura readers, but I'm tougher than I look. You don't need to hold back."

Some sort of healing Semblance? It helped explain why he was so blasé about the issue, but it was still dangerous. Even if she didn't hit a vital, what if he couldn't outheal her damage? "How… robust is it?"

"Forgive me for not wanting to demonstrate, but it's strong enough. Don't hold back."

She understood – she wouldn't want to hurt herself to prove a point – but his reply was still unhelpful. She could give more if minor injuries would heal, but not too much without the risk returning. Forty-five percent felt about right. She adopted her usual stance, one tweaked by years of training, and rejoined the fray.

This time, there was no flailing or sputtering, just solid form and solid technique. Serious strikes were mixed with feints and ploys, a false opening to bait a commitment, a false thrust to mistime a dodge. Nothing special, nothing fancy, just the bread-and-butter style that most people would nevertheless take a lifetime to master.

Jaune avoided it all.

She still wasn't getting close; if anything, she was getting further away. Once he'd picked up on the extra refinement, he'd immediately backed away even more, giving him more space and more time to react to her tricks and combos. She did catch him by surprise once, the first time she shifted Miló into its spear form. His dodge to evade the expanding lance had been ungainly at best, and she'd manage to nick his ear. He'd recovered quickly, though, and been able to read any further mix-ups without incident.

 _She wanted to win._

Jaune was a good opponent. Even holding back this much, most of her peers could never keep up with her. That competitive streak whispered again, telling her to claim her place. She pushed it aside again. Victory or defeat was irrelevant.

On the other hand, with Jaune still evading and still not attacking, and with neither of them running out of energy soon, both victory and defeat looked somewhat impossible. She'd need to force something to happen. As before, breaking through was unsafe, so she'd have to bait him.

She didn't bother with anything fancy, as Jaune would just avoid the risk. Instead, she disengaged, stepped back, and returned to her neutral stance. Her message was clear: come and get her.

They stood like that for too long, Jaune not wanted to leave his familiar defence, her wanting for something to actually happen. Eventually, Jaune's will faded first, and he edged closer, sword ready to swing.

She edged backwards as well. Her plan was simple: stay just inside his effective range, dodge back when he attacks, and counter in his follow-through. Likely a little too simple, but it would be easy to adjust on the fly.

Jaune tried some footwork tricks to get a little closer, but she followed them without trouble. After the second unsuccessful cross-over, he stopped with the fanciness and just swung.

His form was good, from what little she knew of oversized zweihanders, but it was slow all the same. Of course it was; nothing that big could be easy to accelerate. It was just a small step back, a bounce on the feet, and a jab at the gut.

She found air. Of all the ways to dodge, Jaune had gone to ground. An anticlimactic end, but she wouldn't complain. She reversed her grip on Miló and stabbed down.

She found air again. Jaune hadn't gone to ground; he'd kept his momentum and dived into a combat roll. Clever, but it wouldn't be enough. Her pace was faster, and she slashed out at the ball that was Jaune.

She found air yet again, and this time she had to pause. Did he just – yes, Jaune had somehow converted his diving, off-balance roll into an almost-flawless front handspring. The legs had been a bit messy, and he was facing away from her at the end, but she wasn't in a position to punish either of those errors. For that tiny moment, she had to stop and admire the strength and composure needed for a move as acrobatic as that.

 _She wanted to win._

Then combat instincts took over, and she returned to her neutral stance, just as Jaune returned to his.

Blue eyes locked on green again, as both waited for the other to move. The same logic as before rang in both their minds, and as before, Jaune made his move first.

He wouldn't do the same thing twice in a row, he wasn't stupid. His tricks with his feet had been the same, albeit rearranged a bit, and she could still keep up without trouble. A sudden dash forwards, while winding up a swing? Simple to counter, just needed a bigger step back and –

Years in the ring had trained her peripheral vision, and she knew when to trust the blurry corners of her eyes. No time to think, just to react – she desperately raised Miló in a last-ditch parry, barely in time to stop an enormous weight of metal from crashing into her flank.

Flying had felt better at initiation.

She managed to regain her bearings to land almost gracefully, but the strike had taken its toll. Miló had been bent out of shape, she could feel the giant bruise already starting to form, and she looked up at the scoreboard –

She'd lost nearly a third of her aura in a single hit.

How? How had he done that?

Not the damage. It was higher than expected, but he could tear through a Deathstalker tail with no problems. It was nothing that couldn't be trained, albeit slowly and painfully. There was no issue there, but how had he hit her in the first place?

Yes, the dash had shortened the distance, but she still should have been quick enough to dodge. His first swing told her – wait. It had to be.

He'd deliberately slowed that first swing to mislead her, hitting her with the full brunt on the follow-up.

 _She wanted to win._

Her leader was a good opponent to beat, indeed. When was the last time she'd taken a blow like that? Months? Years? Ever?

"If you're still holding back, I'd recommend you stop now," her opponent taunted. She tried to put it aside, to stop it burrowing in, but that nagging voice at the back of her mind kept whispering on.

 _She wanted to win._

She didn't want to take another hit like that. She wouldn't fall for the same trick as before, but what else did he have up his sleeve? Knives? Grenades? Another stratagem? If she fought on like this, what pitfall would she run into?

 _She wanted to win._

She knew about his mechashift gun and shield. The shield would be irritating, but not threatening. The gun, on the other hand, could blow up a Deathstalker. She was much softer than a Deathstalker. She had to end this before the idea began to cross his mind.

 _She wanted to win._

Jaune had set this up to learn how she fought. This wasn't it. If she carried on holding back, would that be disrespecting her leader's wishes?

 _She wanted to win._

And then, of course, there was the much simpler reason, one that she hadn't felt for a long, long time.

 _She wanted to win._

Pyrrha Nikos did not lose.

 _She wanted to win._

And if her leader, partner and friend wanted to face her head-on, who was she to deny him?

(Without ripping his weapon away with her Polarity, of course. That would be boring.)

The dent had jammed one of Miló's servos, preventing the spear-form from coming out. Rifle form, though, was still functional, and she smiled at the surprise on Jaune's face as she opened fire.

It would have been dissatisfying if he'd fallen then and there, but Jaune dealt with it acceptably. The first bullet grazed him before he could dodge, but he slid out the way and deployed his shield to block the rest. She would have started aiming for his legs, but he charged forwards through the hail of fire before she could.

Close range. Right where she wanted him.

Miló was in xiphos form as soon as her finger left the trigger. At the same time, she closed the last of the gap with two steps, grabbed onto his shield, and pulled.

He'd expected to run into something and slow down, not speed up even further. Off-balance, he began tumbling to the floor, but already he was going into that roll-plus-handspring motion again. She waited. She knew the right moment would come in two seconds.

Rising from his feet, eyes and head disoriented from the roll. He'd turned to face her while rolling, but it made no difference. All it did was allow him to briefly see Akoúo before it crashed into his head.

Bronze on bone rang out, and Jaune staggered back, eyes unfocussed. An opportunity to finish it. Letting Akoúo drop to the floor, she raised Miló above her and drove its pommel into his skull.

 _She'd won._

Jaune's neck snapped.

* * *

 **Team stuff, lessons, lessons, and team stuff. Pretty much normal activities for any student a Beacon. Except for the whole broken neck thing.**

 **As one review alluded to, I'm basing the God Eater parts of this primarily on the games, rather the anime or any of the manga. This also means that I'm trying to incorporate some of the game mechanics/logic, provided it makes sense to do so. In particular, any normal person playing God Eater will get beaten up many times, by a large variety of monstrosities, all many times their size.**

 **Jaune was a normal person, thrust into the world of God Eater. He has been beaten up many times, by a large variety of monstrosities, all many times his size. He is very used to lots of injury.**

 **Will a broken neck be the end of Jaune? No, because it's chapter 2. But how will he recover? What about his aura? How will everyone else react? Find out next time, which won't be soon. I have a Master's dissertation to write first.**


	3. Chapter 3

_For a brief moment, reality froze._

 _He floated. Not in the air – his feet were still firmly on the ground, after all – but more in time, or in space. It was as if he was… decontextualized, for lack of a better word. Sense and feeling felt disjointed from his body, like they were on a higher plane of existence. Yes, he could still see, and hear, and smell, but for that brief moment, none of that felt real._

 _Perhaps as a consequence, he took in the scene so much more clearly._

 _In the distance, the ash-choked sky cleared just enough for a warm sun to briefly shine through. Underneath, sunlit waves lapped against the beach, the ocean breeze dusting flecks of salt and sand into his hair. Beneath his feet, not sand, but steel and wood, the deck of a long-forgotten battleship dashed against the rocks. In his hands, the barely-familiar weight of his 'God Arc', supposedly ready against his foes. Behind him, his squadmates. The high-pitched, fearful shriek had to be from Kota, as were the bullets whizzing over his head. That left the low grunt and approaching footsteps to Lindow, accompanied by the whirr of his chainsaw. In front, the main focus of the scene._

 _A Quadriga, Lindow had called it. Supposedly a corpse-lion-tank-artillery thing, and up close, that description mostly made sense. It was corpse-like, from the withered skull and torso that loomed over him, frozen in eternal grim mockery. It was lion-like, as it had four legs, a light-gold colouring, and a halo of steel cresting around that grinning head, reminding him of a mane. It was tank-like, in that its front legs were a pair of tank treads, it was covered in inches-thick armour all around, and its size could rival a house. And it was artillery-like, not only from the missile-pods on its back, but also from the giant missiles it could fire from its chest._

 _In front of him, one Quadriga, bent over, front armour open, recovering from shooting a missile from its chest. Slightly closer, one six-foot-long, who-knows-how-explosive missile, careening right towards his face._

 _If he was more experienced, if he knew his balance and flow more, it would have been easy to dodge. A roll to the side, using the weight of his weapon, then a quick shield to block the blast wave, flowing into a dash forwards and burying his God Arc before the armour closed again. If he was more experienced, none of this would have been an issue._

 _Alas, he had been a God Eater for less than six weeks, and thus was not 'more experienced'. His 'God Arc' was heavy and cumbersome, his conditioning was weak, and his footwork and balance were non-existent. None of those techniques were glimmers in his mind, least of all in that moment._

 _For a brief moment, reality froze._

 _Then the moment passed, the missile crashed into him, and every bone in his body shattered._

* * *

Aura. The strength of the soul, of humanity, of something like that. It would have been nice to know the finer workings, but none of the sources had elaborated much, probably because those details were hardly relevant when facing a swarm of Grimm. Apparently, it improved toughness, could be used as a shockwave, worked as radar, and did a half-dozen other things which seemed tangentially related at best. Not for the first time, I'd regretted not asking more about it when I'd had the chance.

But to return to the present, Aura was super soul-power or whatnot, and its effects were marked. Human necks were pretty difficult to break, and Oracle cells just made mine tougher. No ordinary person would have been able to break it, even with a solid lump of metal for assistance. Except Pyrrha did, without problems. Aura was great.

"Aaaaaahhh!"

A horrified shriek rang out, accompanied by a sword clattering to the ground. Ah. I could imagine that Pyrrha was not used to dealing with broken necks. The right thing to do would be to assuage her, to let her know that I'm still alright, which I why I did exactly that.

"Iiiiiaaaaaiiiihhhh."

That was why I tried to do exactly that, except my brain or my windpipe or something was obstructed, so what came out was less a reassurance, and more of a last gasp of a dying man. Not helpful for most people, and if the new tears were any indicator, certainly not helpful for Pyrrha.

"Pyrrha what's wrong – OH MY GOD JAUNEY WHAT DO WE DO WHAT DO WE DO –"

"Nora, what's – oh."

And Ren and Nora were back. I tried to wave a greeting, but it came out as another pile of death spasms. Pyrrha's cries were more sorrowful, Nora's screams were more panicked, and Ren – well, he wasn't crying or screaming, so it was hard to tell what he was doing while my face was still stuck on the floor.

"I'm sorry Jaune I'm so so sorry this is all my fault –"

"HE'S NOT DEAD WE HAVE TO GET HIM TO THE NURSE –"

"Nora, stay calm. We shouldn't move somebody with a neck injury. We have to –"

With far more effort than I'd have liked, I pushed myself from the floor and rolled onto my back.

A moment of silence fell, as my teammates processed that, yes, that had been controlled movement and not the twitches of a soon-to-be-corpse. The moment stretched on for longer than probably necessary, before being closed by three sets of footsteps. Soon enough, three pairs of concerned and/or tearful eyes were hovering above me. After another moment of processing, Pyrrha spoke first.

"Jaune?"

I put of my best approximation of a smile.

"HHhheeyyyy."

Sweet, sweet Oracle cells, how many times would I have died without you? Barely a handful of minutes, and bones, nerves, blood, sinew, everything had already stuck itself back together. There was still a bit of stiffness, but it was far, far better than being a fleshy sack of organs.

"Jaune! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry –"

Despair given way to relief, Pyrrha swooped down and buried me in a teary embrace. A similarly-relieved Nora joined her a second later, and proceeded to unload her tears as well. I let them have their moment, and when the tears dried up and the last of the stiffness faded, I gently pushed them off me and slowly sat up.

"What happened?" Ren promptly asked. While consoled by my continued existence, there was nonetheless a distinct look of _how-are-you-still-alive_ on his face. Understandable, of course.

"Training accident," I replied. "Pyrrha caught me off-guard. Don't worry about it, though. I heal quickly."

Ren turned to Pyrrha, who distinctly avoided making eye contact. Seeing no objection to my words, he let out a small sigh. "Right. Just… be more careful, I guess?"

"Sure." It was a useful reminder: people weren't Aragami. Mindless eating machines didn't leave tricks for special moments, and I'd have to be more aware of that in the future.

Introspection done, I got back to my feet and looked at the clock. Twenty minutes left. Enough for a bit more training. "Anyway, I'm better now. Pyrrha, are you okay to carry on?"

Pyrrha took a moment to consider it. Then another. Then about a dozen more – certainly longer than I'd imagine she'd need. Looking closer, she'd also stiffened in place slightly, with eyes distant and unfocussed. Was it really that big an issue to think about?

"Pyrrha? Are you okay?"

"Hmm?" My partner blinked a good six or seven times, as if confused by the reality around her. "I'm fine, Jaune. I think I'd prefer to stop now, though, if that's okay?"

Well, she didn't seem completely fine. Otherwise, she wouldn't have frozen in place like that, despite looking and being unharmed and uninjured in every way. "Are you sure? Do you need anything – some water, an energy bar, or –"

"I'm fine," she repeated. "I just need a moment to catch my breath. I'll go wash up in a moment. You go ahead."

"Well, I won't force you." I'd trust her judgement on the issue. "I'll meet you back in our dorm, then we'll all go get some food. Any objections?"

Pyrrha gave me a small, almost hesitant nod of affirmation. I looked to my other teammates, to receive similarly guarded responses. All of Nora's bubbly exuberance had been stuffed in a bag and driven down to the riverbank, while something about Ren seemed more distant than the horizon. They did both nod, but in cautious acceptance rather than agreement.

At this point, it was obvious that something was concerning my team, and it probably involved me. Was there something on my face? Had I unknowing insulted someone's mother? Was I pushing them to limits beyond where they were comfortable? None of these options were likely, but they still needed to be considered. Failing to acknowledge problems was never a good course of action.

"Alright then. See you guys in a bit."

With that said, though, I didn't want to interrogate them on the matter. While I doubted my leadership was the root of the matter, I didn't want to be a hard-line leader anyway. Besides, while bad, the problem didn't feel severe enough to instantly implode the team. While ignoring problems was never good, time still solved some of them. If a night's rest would solve everything, it would be simpler and easier for all of us.

Thus, I headed down to the showers. One day. I'd give it one day to hopefully fix itself, and if things were still stiff then, I'd re-evaluate and decide how to proceed then.

* * *

Ozpin adjusted his glasses.

Objectively, the past few minutes had been shocking. He'd seen and experienced far too many things in his existence to actually have been shocked, but from an objective standpoint, they were certainly shocking. Training accidents did happen, but rarely so severely, and even more rarely did the affected party walk away without a scratch.

Closing the security feed, he took another sip of coffee. Jaune Arc. The first full day of the semester, and he'd already started organising extra-curricular training for his team. Such initiative was rare, and combined with his display at initiation, he'd thought it worthwhile to watch the boy's approach.

Overall, he was satisfied. Yes, while none of Team Juniper had noticeably bettered themselves, it wasn't wrong to first observe, to understand where improvement would be most worthwhile. While there were risks of stalling and complacency, with proper diligence, the method would pay its dividends in the long-term.

Nevertheless, some irregularities did cause concern.

Putting his coffee down, he opened up the student records. Arc, Jaune C., near the top of the list. There were two things he needed to check, and one thing to confirm.

The confirmation, first. Previous Schooling, Other (Please Specify): survived two-and-a-half years in the wilds. It would have been implausible, if not for the news reports back at that time, which made it merely improbable, and more and more likely with each day. Indeed, suppose he had survived like that. Then his somewhat laissez-faire approach to his own safety could be explained: in the wilderness, the only distinction that mattered was alive or dead. Given his lack of a reaction to a shattered vertebra, he likely had been closer to the second of those options more times than anyone would be comfortable.

That healing 'Semblance' would have been vital. But that was precisely the first major concern: Semblance, Unknown. Obviously, the boy had known about his robust recovery potential. Did that mean that that wasn't his Semblance? Unlikely. He didn't feel any of the tell-tale signs of old magic, and he sincerely doubted that his old adversary (or anyone) could find a way of masking them. But that would mean the boy didn't know what a Semblance was, which only felt barely more plausible. There was no clear, consistent explanation here, not without uncharacteristic stupidity.

Still, although the issue was worth pondering, it was more of a longer-term problem. It was an issue of understanding, and since 'Jaune can heal quickly' was hardly something which required an immediate solution, understanding could wait. The other major concern, however, certainly required an immediate pause. Maximum Aura Strength: Unmeasured.

Now, that in itself wasn't a problem; ten minutes with a nurse was all it required. It was easy enough, that almost every student included the information. But that begged the question, why hadn't Jaune bothered?

With what he'd seen, he could hazard a guess.

Closing the student records, he opened up the archived security footage. In particular, he brought up the footage from Initiation, and from Glynda's combat class earlier that day. Skipping forwards, he found the relevant sections.

He looked at the 'bout' with the Winchester boy first, if it could even be called that. Despite wielding something taller than his own person, Jaune had danced around his bulkier opponent, like a wasp nagging a bull. Cardin had never even hit him once.

It was the same way with Initiation, too: not quite as elegant, since the melee had been far more chaotic, but still a remarkable display of impenetrable defence. There were a few minor scrapes and bruises, but through all of initiation, he also hadn't taken a single significant hit.

Those hits from Pyrrha Nikos were the first significant blows he'd taken.

Finishing up his coffee, he opened up the latest footage, from fifteen minutes ago. Jaune mistimes a combat roll, shield clangs into his head, pommel follows a second later. An efficient move on Miss Nikos' part, but playing it back more slowly, it confirmed what he'd seen in real time.

The camera was old, the lighting was somewhat dubious, and the action was distant, all resulting in a rather low-quality picture. Besides, the small details were somewhat overshadowed by the whole 'broken neck' issue that immediately followed. But it was there. Grainy and difficult to notice without specifically looking, it was nonetheless there, and it told him that they'd need to be very careful with Jaune Arc in the future.

Right there, right when shield met head, was the distinct ripple of Jaune's Aura breaking in one hit.

* * *

She'd never taken a bath before.

She knew what baths were, of course. They'd hardly been a niche concept before Aragami started existing, so old books and older records were filled with mentions of them. Sadly, with said existence of Aragami limiting every resource, nobody could justify using so much water when the most Spartan of showers would suffice. As such, she'd never had the opportunity and/or pleasure to sit back, soak, and just relax in a nice, warm tub of gently soothing water.

Thankfully, there were no water shortages in Atlas.

She kneaded out another knot in her shoulder as she leant back into the water. Atlas. She'd been in the country for all of four days, but it already felt like her motherland. Cold, snowy, tiny pockets of civilisation dotted around endless frozen waste, divided by ravening swarms of monsters, it was almost like being right back in Moscow. While some would bemoan the distinct lack of vodka, the extra amenities (such as food other than yet-another-protein-gruel) more than made up for it. Besides, any familiarity in a strange land was more than welcome.

A tap on the bathroom door brought her back from her reverie. "Hey, Alisa? Just reminding you, lights out are in fifteen."

Alas, if only there were more hours in the day. "Got it. I'll be out in a moment." Letting one more wave of warmth suffuse through here, she grudgingly climbed out of the tub. She ignored the frugalist in her as the water slowly drained away, distracting it with a suitably fluffy towel to dry herself.

She was halfway through drying her hair when the unfamiliar ring of her scroll went off. Who would be calling her this late? Hardly anyone had her number, Lindow and everyone there were probably already asleep, which left –

"Salutations!"

"Erm… Hello?"

Which left her new partner to answer her scroll for her. Great. Muttering half a curse, she wrapped herself in a towel before tromping out into her dorm. "Penny. Please don't answer other people's scrolls."

Her orange-haired teammate paused significantly, as if considering far more things than necessary. "Understood. However, it was to my understanding that your contact 'Jaune' would not have appreciated the failure of his call to connect. Was my understanding incorrect?"

"Well – no. It's more that people don't like other using their things – scrolls, clothes, toothbrushes, whatever – with permission. Honestly, it's probably better that you picked up, but next time, tell me before you do that. Is that okay?"

"Understood. I will commit this to memory." With an exaggeratedly-mechanical nod, she turned back to the scroll in hand. "Contact 'Jaune', I will transfer you to Leader Alisa."

Holding back an exasperated sigh, she took her scroll back. Given she wanted some privacy for the call, and didn't want to wander around school in a towel, she turned straight back into the bathroom. "Sorry about that," she said. "Penny is… a girl of many interesting quirks."

"I can see that." Even though they'd been apart less than a week, it was still good to see and hear her Captain again. On the other side of the call, Jaune sat on a bed, lazing against a wall. "Sheltered upbringing, I guess?"

"Maybe? I've known her for all of two days." There really wasn't anywhere to sit in the bathroom, so she did the best she could and nestled back in the now-empty bathtub. "While it makes sense, I don't know her well enough to ask yet."

"Point taken. On the other hand, it sounds like you're doing well. You're a Team Leader now?"

"Yes." It was a small thing in the scheme of things, but she was still proud of what she'd achieved, and she straightened herself to look more authoritative (well, as much as she could in a bath towel). "Officially, I am now Alisa Ilinichina Amiella, Leader of Team Apricot of Atlas Academy, personally appointed by General and Headmaster James Ironwood himself."

"Charming. Was that written in your student handbook?"

"Word for word exactly."

A moment of calm passed, before both of them let out a light chuckle. She'd missed him, and he'd missed her.

Once the calm returned, Jaune began again. "So, Team Apricot. Is your team fine? Any early teething problems?"

She gave herself a moment to evaluate. "Well, everyone's civil right now, but I won't say that things are perfect. You saw Penny, and I can just feel that she'll bring some problems down the line. And the others – Flynt and Neon – I think they were old friends before coming here, and they both wanted Flynt to be their leader. They're cooperating, but skeptically."

"Ah. Well, at least it sounds like you should be able to nip that before it become too serious. Just – wait a moment. How do you spell Apricot with an F and an N?"

That was the thing he'd latched onto? "With surnames. Amiella – Polendina – Coal – Katt. A-P-C-K – Apricot, apparently."

"Really?" Jaune scratched his head. "I can see it, but it's tenuous at best. Was that really the best they could do?"

"If you can think of anything better, you're more than welcome to send it back to me. And anyway, I know that I need to earn the trust of my teammates and lead by example and all that. The General already included that in his welcoming speech. There are problems, but I'll manage."

"Glad to hear it. Anything else on your end?"

"Only that the beds are extremely uncomfortable. How about you? How's everything holding up at Beacon?"

Jaune hesitated. It was a tiny, tiny hesitation, one that nobody would notice without spending every day at his side for two years, but it was there nonetheless. "On the whole, things are fine –"

"Jaune C. Arc, what went wrong?"

"Nothing," he replied, just a bit too quickly. One quizzical raise of an eyebrow, and he wavered. "Well, nothing big. Like with you, it's some team teething problems. I'll figure it out on my own."

A minor warning flashed in the back of her head. While Jaune was mostly good at solving his own problems, when he failed, he botched them beyond repair. "Are you sure you don't want an external perspective? Remember what happened with Kanon, with the –"

"Please don't remind me," he interrupted, with all the grace of a machine. Admittedly, it was a cheap shot, but it was for his own good. He seemed to recognise it, too. "But I guess it wouldn't hurt to listen to your thoughts. Like I said, it's a team bonding issue. Everything was fine until two hours ago, when I got injured in some light sparring. Oracle Cells fixed the damage, but since then my teammates have been noticeably more distant. I'm probably missing something obvious, but I'm not seeing it clearly at the moment."

"Okay." Jaune wasn't giving the full details, but from that brief description, nothing sounded too off. Oracle-based regeneration looked normal, after all. "It sounds like the exact sort of thing that you'd do, so I'm guessing they just don't know you well enough and got taken by surprise."

"It's plausible," he agreed. "What bit would be the most surprising, then?"

She shook her head. "With how well I know you, I doubt that anything you'd do would surprise me. Do you have anyone else to talk to? Ask that same question, just to someone else at Beacon."

"Huh." Jaune pondered the issue for a moment, before giving a slow nod of acceptance. "Yeah, I can see how that might help. I know someone. If things are still awkward tomorrow, I'll talk to her."

"No problem, Captain." Of course, it would have been better for him to talk to his new friend straight away, but one day seemed fine to lose, and a bit of self-conviction was good in a leader. "Glad to help. Anything else on your end?"

"Only that Grimm Study classes are extremely boring. Once the team gels together some more, I'll look for some alternative arrangements."

"Please don't do anything stupid of self-endangering."

"Don't worry. I won't."

The conversation branch over, a relaxed lull once again descended. Or at least it would have, had Flynt not knocked on the door again. "Hey, Alisa. Lights out in five. Better finish up with your call soon."

"Got it." She turned back to Jaune. "Well, you heard him. Any last-minute things?"

Half an intense second of brain-wracking followed. "I miss you."

Her heart wanted to flutter, but she knew there was no subtext there. "I miss you too. Hope it works out with your team."

"And the same for you. Good night."

"Good night."

* * *

It was now 'tomorrow'.

My teammates were still keeping a cautious distance.

The night's rest had mellowed them out a little, but compared to breakfast the previous day, they were all still noticeably more tense. If I wanted to clutch at straws, I could wait another day for improvements, but returns were definitely diminishing.

With that said, those returns still weren't zero. It was a rather utilitarian way of thinking, but if I had something non-interactive to do by myself, it was better to do it now. There would be a point where time stopped healing and started festering, but it wouldn't be that morning.

Hence, I took the morning to do some weapon adjustments.

Invida Mors was a masterpiece. Its replica was the opposite. Cumbersome, unwieldy, with each of its functions being slow and inefficient, it was almost a miracle that I could use it close to well. The only saving grace was that I knew it was a cumbersome, unwieldy, inefficient piece of junk, so I could take measures to mitigate those flaws.

Thus, there I was, in the workshop under the school, ready to modify. But to even start, I'd need to disassemble it first. Therein lay the first problem: as much as it was a piece of junk, it was an incredibly sturdy piece of junk. There was no obvious place to start the disassembly – at least, not to my eyes – which left me to gather the largest hammer and drill I could find, and to carefully consider the least bad place to apply them.

Thankfully, a familiar face arrived at that point. "Hey, Jaune, I didn't – what are you doing please stop."

"Hey, Ruby. I'm trying to make some adjustments to my weapon, and I'd appreciate your help in figuring out where to begin."

With Ruby's help, we only had to remove two nails, eighteen screws, four tungsten pins, some superglue, one foot of duct tape, and something which was suspiciously similar to asbestos, to open the main housing and expose the inner workings. "Do you think you'll be fine now?" Ruby asked. "No more destroying everything with drills and hammers?"

"I'll probably need your input again later, but I'll poke around a bit first." Ruby looked slightly concerned about that, but I continued quickly. "Nothing destructive or harsh – it's just to make sure that I know what everything does, so the tweaks I make will actually do what I want them to do. I'll be gentle."

Ruby didn't look fully convinced, but given that she could complain right away if I did anything too stupid, she gave me the benefit of the doubt. "Okay, Jaune. If you need help or an extra point of view, just ask, alright?"

"Alright." That reminded me – I needed to ask for her perspective on what had happened yesterday. But that could wait a bit, after some tweaking.

What was the most important thing to adjust? Balance, for sure. Better balance meant better manoeuvrability, which meant better offence and defence. Right now, the centre of mass was too far forwards. While good for bludgeoning, the momentum was a little too uncontrollable. It needed to move a good inch-and-a-half closer to the hilt.

So that meant taking weight away from the blade, or adding weight to the base. I was used to the length, so I didn't want to make the blade shorter. Tapering it somewhat was an option, but it would take a long time, could make the blade weaker, and a dodgy twitch of the grinder would break everything. That left adding more weight. Carrying it around wouldn't be ideal, but it was nothing some extra conditioning couldn't fix.

(Ruby, meanwhile, had taken out her scythe – Crescent Rose, I think she called it – and had just started cleaning and oiling it. Routine maintenance, but certainly important.)

So where was the best place to add that weight? Well, if I remembered my physics correctly, as far away from the centre of mass as possible. The exact mechanism didn't spring to mind, but attaching a good amount of steel to the base of the hilt felt like a decent plan.

I left Ruby to her maintenance, in search of the proper equipment. I returned two minutes later, in failure and disappointment. "Ruby? Do you know where they keep the plasma torches?"

Ruby, previously distracted in her work, took a long pause to respond. "I don't think they let us do our own welding, Jaune."

"Really? That's a shame." The proper metalworkers would do it quickly enough, but that would still mean coming back later. For now, nothing to do but move on. The next most important thing would be shield deployment speed. Not getting eaten was always –

"Jaune? Are you feeling alright?"

"Hmm?" I turned back to the only other person in the room. "I feel fine. Why do you ask?"

Ruby fidgeted slightly now I was looking at her. "I don't know. It's just… you seem a little reckless today. Are you sure everything's fine?"

Reckless? Oh, with the destructive disassembly and adventures in welding. "I think I get where you're coming from. I wouldn't call it recklessness myself, though. More…" It took a moment for the right words to come to mind. "More of a general favour for efficiency over elegance. I guess it's just who I am these days."

"Nuh-uh."

I raised an eyebrow at the strange noise. "Excuse me?"

"Nuh-uh." The concern on Ruby's face had been replaced by some sort of irritation. It didn't look quite right on her. "Jaune, that's not an excuse. In fact, that's practically the definition of recklessness."

"I'm pretty sure it isn't." I pulled out my scroll to check, but Ruby scooted over to me before I could.

"Not the point, Jaune. Look." She pointed to something in the internals of my weapon. "This is a bank of five-megafarad capacitors. These usually only get used on Bullheads and security droids. Do you know what happens when you hit these with a hammer?"

"Bad things, presumably."

"They _explode_!" Ruby did briefly raise her hands into the air for emphasis. "And when one explodes, the rest explode, and then all you have left is broken metal and disappointment. And this," she continued, pointing at something else, "this is the largest polymer battery I've ever seen. I don't know why you'd use it when you could use a dust battery, but do you know what happens when you drill into this?"

"It explodes?"

"Worse than that! It catches on fire, lets out poison smoke, _then_ explodes! Why did you think drilling anywhere near this was a good idea?"

"In my defence, I just thought it wasn't a terrible idea."

"Well you should have thought better. If you'd made even one wrong move, who knows what would have happened? It's the same thing with blowtorches. Have you ever used one before? Do you know the right fuel to use? The right temperature setting? The right safety equipment? The right amount of ventilation? Do you know anything about metalworking?"

"No, no, no, no, no, and no."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about! You can't be this reckless. I don't know how long you've been like this, but you've been lucky so far. I don't want to think about what happens if that luck runs out. Jaune, you have to look after your own safety. Please."

With those words, silence fell in the workshop, as both took the moment to reflect.

Oddly, Ruby reacted before I did, almost shrinking away. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't mean to –"

"Don't be."

"– go off on you like that and what did you just say?"

"Don't be sorry," I repeated, scratching my head. "You didn't say anything wrong."

Remnant wasn't Earth. Yes, both had unending hordes of ravening monsters, but Remnant still had regular optimism, while Earth was left with nothing but desperation. There had always been too many factors at play, each one of which had death looming over, that the smallest ones always had to be left to blind faith. It had been the only viable way of life on Earth, but here, as Ruby suggested, it stank of reckless self-endangerment.

A faint flicker of hope began to cross Ruby's face. "Do you mean –?"

"I can see your point, and I'll be more considerate of my actions in the future." While Ruby's response there had been perhaps more emotional than the average person's, I could see that a distinct lack of self-concern would be, well, concerning. Given that I didn't want to alienate myself from everyone around me, I'd need to be more careful with my actions from now on.

It took a moment to sink in, but once it did, Ruby immediately started beaming and wrapped me in a hug. "Thank you, Jaune! Thank you, thanks for listening to me, please take care of yourself and don't do stupid things and –"

I hugged her back, giving her a couple of pats for good measure, and let her joyous rambling fill the room.

If anyone had walked into the room at that point, there could have been some sort of 'hilarious misunderstanding'. Thankfully, it was underground, on the second day of the semester, at a time where most people had their electives, so everyone else was miles away from here. Hence, there were no such episodes, and we were left in peace.

Ruby rambled on for a good fifteen seconds, before she seemed to realise the lack of personal space. Slightly awkwardly, she unravelled herself from the hug. "Sorry about that. I got a bit too excited, and I tend to ramble when I get excited, and I'm rambling again, aren't I?"

I smiled back. "Don't worry about it." Now, might as well ask about the issue from yesterday, even if I could guess the answer. "Just out of curiosity, though – and I think I know already, just looking for a second opinion – how reckless would you consider training after an injury?"

The obvious subtext did cause a spark of alarm to cross Ruby's face, but it was calmed again two seconds later. If it was something I was specifically trying to avoid, there was nothing to be worried about. "Well, that depends," she began, sitting back next to her scythe. "Maybe if it's a small bruise or a graze, it's fine to carry on if your Aura's still up, but anything worse than that? A twisted ankle? That's definitely reckless."

Something that minor? Well, then, carrying on with a broken neck would be like watching the most disturbingly-realistic horror movie. Probably why my team looked so out of it. "That's what I thought. Thanks for the input."

Ruby smiled and nodded, before turning back to her weapon. I did the same. Yes, I now knew the problem with my team and could solve it, except, if the clocks were accurate, they were still in the middle of their morning lectures. Better to wait until lunch – a full stomach would make the procedure go more smoothly anyway.

In the meantime, back to weapon tinkering.

* * *

Pyrrha poked at her food.

She knew it was good food. Grilled chicken, a jacket potato, baked beans, with a light fruit salad for dessert. Hearty, nutritious, filling and flavourful, it was a perfect meal for any student at Beacon.

She put her fork down. She may as well have been eating cardboard.

"So how was your Survival class, Pyr?"

"Hmm?" She turned to the other girl on her team. Nora looked similarly unenthused about her food, but she was still forcing it down. "This morning, you mean?"

Nora swallowed a mouthful of potato. "Yep. Unless you had any other Survival classes. Did you have any other classes? Did I miss a class? Ren's going to be –"

"No, there was just the one, if it could even be called that." She rearranged some beans as Nora redirected her train of thought. "There weren't many students – only about seven or eight – and we showed up on time, in the gardens. But Professor Peach didn't show up until two hours later."

Nora furrowed her brow at that. "Really? Any reason why?"

"It might not have been the best way of teaching, but the lesson did make sense," she replied. "Once she arrived, she pointed out that, in a real survival situation, we'd all have succumbed to exposure."

Nora gave half a nod of acceptance, before reversing it. "Wait. She used two hours of all of your time just for that one thing?"

She nodded. "She said it was better if we experience it rather than reading it." Of course, Beacon gardens hardly compared to the wilds, but she personally felt that the distant mumbles and whispers about her from her classmates helped bridge the gap.

"That's… good, I guess." Nora let her voice trail off, turning her attention back to her food.

Silence fell.

It would have been easy to break it – a simple question of 'how were your first electives' to her teammates at the table, and the conversation would flow again. But then it would just dry up again, just as quickly. None of them – her, Nora, Ren – wanted to talk, because all of them had the same issue in mind.

There was something wrong with their leader.

She held a nervous swallow as she thought back to the previous day. Such a blur of emotions – pride and joy and confusion and horror and despair and shock and blind hope and absolution and more confusion and _wrongness_ – it had been difficult to pick the exact source of the feeling. With a night's sleep, though, with two hours in a garden alone with her thoughts, it had become obvious.

A normal person did not brush off a broken neck like it was nothing.

She finished a glass of water. If her appetite was missing, and all conversation was doomed to failure, there was little point in staying here. She began to stand up. "I think I'll head off now."

"Already? But you've barely eaten anything."

That voice. It didn't quite shock the three of them, or make them flinch, but it came close. Lost in their thought, they'd failed to notice their leader walking up to them, food tray in hand.

She had to take a moment to collect her thoughts, but the explanation was easy. "I'm not hungry right now."

"Really? That's a shame," Jaune replied, sitting right next to her. "But do you mind staying a little longer? There's something I want to talk to the three of you about."

She briefly turned to Ren and Nora, but both of them knew as little as she did. Still, she sat back down. There may have been something wrong with her leader, but if he wanted to talk, she was still obliged to listen.

"Thanks, partner."

Jaune took a long, slow sip of his orange juice.

He put down the glass.

He then clapped his hands together and bowed his head.

"I'm sorry, guys. Please forgive me."

Well, this certainly hadn't be something she'd expected five minutes ago. Again she turned to her other teammates, and again they knew as little as she did. "Jaune, what are you apologizing for?"

Jaune did not raise his head. "It has been brought to my attention that some of my actions yesterday were needlessly reckless and caused all of you unnecessary distress. I sincerely apologise, and will attempt to avoid such distress again in the future."

Reckless? Possibly. Distressing? Definitely. It was good that he now recognised it, and it made him seem a little more normal.

Still, though, something about the apology didn't quite sit right with her. She couldn't quite put a precise finger on it, but the lingering feeling was still there. "It's okay, Jaune. You can lift your head."

"Nope. Not until I'm sure you're all okay."

"Really, it's fine, Jaune."

This could have continued for too long, had not Ren chimed in. "It was more the surprise," he added. "Looking back, I don't think you did anything _wrong_ , per se, but more than we weren't used to your approach."

Like water parting, it was exactly the exact thing she was looking for. While something was likely wrong _with_ Jaune, he hadn't _done_ anything wrong. From his bowed posture and sincerity, anyone would think he'd insulted their mothers, but it was nothing of the sort. Treating a broken neck as less than a mosquito bite was certainly nonstandard to the point of being disturbing, and something she wouldn't _want_ to get used to, but it wasn't inherently _wrong_.

"Renny's right," Nora followed. "I like that you're thinking of us – yesterday was scary, I'm not going to lie – but it's not fair without us also thinking of you."

"Exactly," she finished. "This is something we'll have to solve as a team, not just from you alone. Lift your head, Jaune."

Her partner briefly tilted his head up, just checking, that yes, they were all sincere, before sitting back up. "Thanks, all of you. Obviously, I'm not going to try cause you needless discomfort, but it means a lot that you're all willing to work together with me."

"It's not a problem. That's what teammates are for."

Smiling at that, he raised his orange juice. "I'll drink to that. For Team Juniper, becoming the best team we can?"

She raised her water as well. "To Team Juniper."

"For Team Juniper."

"To Juniper!"

When the glasses were clinked and the drinks were drunk, Nora spoke up again. "Hey, Leader? I know that you can heal quickly – we all saw that – but since we'll be sparring later in training sessions and all that, how strong is it? I mean, I definitely don't want to hurt you accidentally, and Pyr and Renny won't want to as well, so it would be good to know the limits so we don't –"

"I understand, Nora," Jaune interrupted. "I get it, and I suppose it make sense to be open about it. Let's see."

He leant back slightly, looking above their heads. "Firstly, I'd want everything from the neck up to remain in one recognisable piece. I can deal with a skullcrack or broken jaw, but not getting decapitated or getting my entire skull caved in. Similarly, I'd want my torso to remain in one piece, so don't bisect me at the hip or waist or anywhere.

"What else… right, I don't really want to find out what happens if I lose all my blood, so I'd strongly prefer for sharp objects to stay away from my heart. In regards to extremities, I'm pretty sure I can handle the loss of a limb, but not two and definitely not three, and I'm being disturbing again, aren't I?"

Nora looked at her. She looked at Ren. Ren looked back to Nora. In unison, they gave one slow nod.

Maybe they had been a little hasty in assuming everything would be perfect. While it was good that he recognised it and was working to mitigate it, there was still something wrong with their leader.

* * *

 **So, as it turns out, dissertations are a massive pain. Guess what else are massive pains? Final exams. Joy. I had just enough time for this update, but again, don't expect anything else for a while.**

 **Content-wise, there are a couple of points worth mentioning. The underlying idea of this chapter was 'being a God Eater has changed Jaune', but it took several revisions to get it to the right feel. If you play the GE games, you'll probably get beaten up many times, by a large variety of monstrosities. Each time, though, you'll just carry on like it didn't happen, maybe only taking a health pill. You don't think about it because it's a game, but in reality, someone just carrying on after being almost blown up or decapitated would be rather unnerving, to say the least. That was the feel I was going for – completely normal from Jaune's view, but unnatural under the surface – and I hope it hit the right mark.**

 **For the Ozpin POV, I probably didn't do as much research as I should. It have been best to rewatch most of RWBY, to get a proper balance between caring and calculating, expect I didn't have the time or willpower. I don't think I've written anything wildly OOC for against canon, but there's portably some minor contradictions.**

 **In regards to Alisa, given that she would be in Atlas, she would always need a team. Penny was the obvious choice: she actual has more than one note to her character, and it would provide an easy way to integrate her into Jaune's story. I didn't want to include any OCs this early on, in a role which could potentially have story roles, so that left two from Ciel, Flynt and Neon. I went for Flynt and Neon because it felt wrong to split them apart, and because Ciel has all the character and personality of a clock with a face drawn on it.**

 **On the last parts, it's quite possible that the whole reflect-on-your-actions thing should happen several chapters later, for a more naturally flowing character development arc, but that would mean writing a mostly-dysfunctional JNPR for those chapters, so it put all of NPR's development on the backburner. Obviously I went towards making the team mostly-functional again.**

 **Also, I went back and made some extremely minor edits to Chapters 1 and 2: I corrected three typos, and reworded two sentences. Anyone who finds all those edits will win absolutely nothing.**

 **So overall, Jaune's warped, he knows that other people think he's warped, and he's started taking measures to address that. Will they work? How will his team continue to react to the new Jaune? Will I think of a reasonable way to integrate thee other members of RWBY? Find out next time, coming out whenever-it-comes-out. Probably August or something.**


End file.
